


Punishments and Rewards (Aren't Mutually Exclusive)

by lexthewreck



Series: How Light Could Have Won [2]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, also i hate near, character deaths but not of anyone who matters, i promised smut and smut i delivered, like seriously fuck that lamb ghost in the ear with a curling iron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexthewreck/pseuds/lexthewreck
Summary: Kira punishes those who defy him and rewards those that serve him. Sometimes they bleed through a bit. Mikami couldn't be happier.





	Punishments and Rewards (Aren't Mutually Exclusive)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZombieJesus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieJesus/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ZombieJesus because I promised them smut, and so smut they shall receive...

Light had won- or as good as. His victory wouldn’t come for another minute yet, but it was an inevitability. Everything had played out exactly as he’d expected, the pieces falling perfectly into place, securing him, the God of the New World, his triumph over the insolent mortals who had dared to challenge his reign. In the near-silence of the warehouse, the only interruption being the grating squeal of the fan as it determinedly kept spinning, Light had to bite back a laugh, had to fight his features to not stretch into a malicious grin.

“To the person outside,” he called, his voice giving away none of his inward thoughts, “have you written the names down in the notebook?”

“Yes,” the answer came, slightly distorted as it traveled through the crack of the door and across the expanse of the warehouse, but it was familiar enough that there was no doubt to Light that it was his servant. “I’ve written them.”

The tension in the air, already thick enough to be almost tangible, skyrocketed further at the words. Another laugh tried to escape his throat at the gasps of the Task Force, but Light held it back. Less than a minute, and he could claim his victory. There would be time for gloating then.

Near, his voice just slightly too accusing to be truly monotone, said then, “That’s odd."

“Hmm?” Light questioned, turning away from the door to rest his gaze upon the white-haired child that had caused him so much trouble and yet was such a poor mimicry of his predecessor.

“Why would he answer you so calmly when you asked him if he had written our names?” Piercing black eyes glared up at him.

“Who knows?” Light responded, all faux innocence. “Maybe he’s honest? No, he’s confident. Could it be that he sees through your plan?” _Your so easily foretold plan?_

“Huh? So that means we’re all in trouble!” Matsuda exclaimed.

“Teru Mikami. Come in if you’d like,” Near addressed the man just outside of view. “I know that you are doing the killings for Kira. There shouldn’t be anything to be afraid of if you’ve written our names. Come right in.”

 _Nothing to be afraid of, indeed,_ Light thought. When his servant stayed where he was, Light affirmed, “Teru Mikami? That’s right. Come in.”

The door opened with a protesting screech, illuminating the room with light and revealing Mikami, the Death Note clutched in one hand, his body wrapped in a trench coat, his hair and eyes wild.

 _Well done, Mikami._ Aloud, Light asked, “How many seconds has it been since you wrote the first name?”

Mikami checked his watch, and the room held its breath as he began counting, “Thirty...thirty-one...thirty-two...thirty-three...thirty-four...thirty-five...thirty-six...thirty-seven...thirty eight! Thirty-nine!”

“Near, I win,” Light announced, allowing his glee to cross his face, wanting a moment for Near to know that he had lost before his death.

“Forty!” Mikami shouted, voice echoing through the room, bouncing off the walls.

As the sound of the word died down, screams began to ring through the air as members of the Task Force and SPK began dropping, clutching their chests. Light’s attention was focused on Near, whose eyes were widened in shock and disbelief, wondering how his plan could have possibly gone wrong.

Finally, _finally,_ Light allowed his true feelings to show through, his mouth stretching into an almost crazed grin that lit up his eyes as his body flooded with adrenaline and pleasure at having bested the little rugrat, the wanna-be L. As he threw his head back, the laughter that had bubbled in his chest pealed out, the happiness in it incongruous to the scene around him. At the end of it, only three people remained alive in the room.

Forcing himself to settle, Light turned to face the heartbroken, betrayed expression on Matsuda’s normally cheerful face. The investigator was on his knees amongst the bodies of his co-workers, frozen, nonplussed. It was clear that the man didn’t know what to do, was trying to process what had just taken place, torn between shock and fury that Light was behind this and grief that his friends had just fallen. He seemed to have forgotten the firearm at his hip as well. It was for the best really; Light didn’t want to have to kill Matsuda.

As he stepped towards the last living man of those who had hunted him, Light said, “Matsuda. You have a choice.”

Matsuda, lifting his head from where it had been bowed in sorrow, looked at Light, emotions flitting behind his eyes almost too fast to be distinguished. Almost. Light was very good at reading people after all.

Sure that he had Matsuda’s attention, Light continued, “Matsuda, you were the only Task Force member who I think could be saved, who could see the error of your ways. I’m giving you a choice,” he repeated. “You can choose to die here with your brothers in arms. I will promise you a quick death, a painless one; you deserve that much, at least. Or you can choose to join me and have a place in our ranks. You can help me bring about the New World, delivering justice to wrongdoers, protecting the weak. Your sins will be forgiven, and we can begin anew. But you must choose quickly Matsuda. Now. What is your decision?”

There was silence, just the fan, and then, quietly but firmly, “You drove your own father to his death. I could never choose to work for a monster like you.”

Light’s eyes widened for a moment, and he inhaled sharply. In the next moment, however, he let the breath go and gestured slightly with his right hand. There was the sound of pen against paper, and less than a minute later, Matsuda’s eyes went blank before he pulled out his gun, raised it to his temple, and painted the floor with his blood and brain matter.

Light sighed. He’d been hoping to avoid that.

Turning, he addressed his servant for the first time since the deaths had started. “Mikami, you’ve done well.”

Mikami, who was on his knees, his head bowed, breathed reverently, “Thank you, God.”

Light stepped forward and placed one hand on Mikami’s head for a brief second, allowing his servant that much contact with his God at least, before commanding, “Stand, Mikami. There is work to be done.”

“Of course, God.” The words were eager, rushed, almost as though they were tripping over each other in their haste to reach Light’s ears. Light didn’t mind; he liked knowing how his presence affected people.

Mikami nearly stumbled as he stood, but he managed to right himself quickly. “What can I do for you, God?” Though he was face to face with Light, Light was pleased to see that the man still didn’t make eye contact, his head deferentially bowed. Mikami’s hands were shaking at his side, and his whole body seemed to be thrumming with excitement at finally meeting his God. Light smiled.

Light waved a hand vaguely towards the bodies of the SPK members. “Search their bodies for the Death Note they stole. I’ve no doubt they brought it with them. Near would have wanted to brag.” A small chuckle escaped him at the thought.

“Yes, God,” Mikami answered, and he began scavenging through their belongings.

“Hyuk, hyuk.”

The distinctive laugh brought Light’s gaze up to his Shinigami. “Did you need something, Ryuk?"

“That was a good show, Light. I thought you were a goner there for a second, hyuk.” The Shinigami did a few small flips in the air.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Light remarked carelessly, flicking his attentions away from the Shinigami.

Light had known that there was a risk of the true Death Note being stolen; Near didn’t hold a candle to L’s brilliance, but Light still refused to underestimate him or overestimate Mikami and Takada. _And how right I was for that_ , he thought. As a precaution, he’d ordered Mikami to tear a page from the Death Note to keep for himself. When the Notes were swapped, Mikami played ignorant, continuing to write names as usual, but retrieved the spare real page and tucked it within the fake Note to be used when the time came.

“God! I’ve found it!” Mikami shouted, waving the true Death Note in the air.

“Good, Mikami,” Light praised. “Come now. I don’t particularly relish the thought of lingering here much longer.” His face became a moue of distaste as he registered again the stale air in the warehouse. “Your car is outside, yes?” he checked.

“Yes, God,” Mikami responded. “Do you have plans for the bodies, God?”

“I’ll take care of it later,” he dismissed. “For now, you will drive us where I direct you.”

“Of course, God.”

Light followed Mikami to where the car had been parked, far enough away from the warehouse that it wouldn’t have been heard. Mikami kept glancing over his shoulder, as if assuring himself that Light was still there, that this wasn’t a dream. Light allowed a smirk to curl the corners of his lips, the high of his victory and Mikami’s enthralled behavior making him buoyant. The lawyer opened the passenger side door, stepping aside so that Light could settle himself inside. Mikami closed the door and hurried around the car to take his own place in the driver’s seat. Once Mikami turned the key in the ignition, Light instructed him, “Go back he way you came, and turn left.”

Mikami followed the directions with no comment, but from the backseat where he’d perched himself, Ryuk asked, “Hyuk, where’re we going, Light?”

Flicking his gaze to the rearview mirror to look at the Shinigami. “The apartment,” Light answered. “We have something to deal with.”

Ryuk cackled, an unpleasant noise. “Hyuk!” The Shinigami faded through the backseat, hovering outside the car with a flap of his wings before resecuring himself in the middle seat.

They drove in relative silence, Light occasionally directing Mikami. Ryuk would howl with laughter in intermittent bursts, finding amusement in some joke he didn’t feel the need to share, and Light had no desire to ask.

“Park here,” Light ordered Mikami when they arrived.

“Yes, God.” Mikami pulled into the indicated parking space and cut the engine.

Light opened the car door himself this time, stepping outside, and he heard Mikami scurrying to do the same. Ryuk flew ahead of them, ghosting through the walls, while Light and Mikami stepped into the foyer of the apartment building and headed to the elevator, Mikami following behind Light like an eager puppy at his master’s heels.

The elevator dinged as it released them onto the third floor. Light led the way down the hall and pulled out the key to his apartment, inserting one into the lock and twisting. He flipped the light on as they stepped into the apartment and the pair slid off their shoes by the door. He then told Mikami, “Go kneel by the couch and wait for me. If Misa Amane comes in, tell her that Ryuk wants an apple. Answer any questions she asks of you, and you may converse with her if you wish, but do not move from that spot, and do not give her the Death Note.”

“Yes, God,” Mikami answered, hurrying to obey.

Light made his way through the house to his bedroom and entered the en suite. He shed himself of the clothes that had absorbed the scent of the warehouse, dropping his shirts, socks, and underwear into the laundry basket and hanging his suit up to be dry cleaned. Turning the knobs of the shower, he set the water to his preferred temperature before stepping under the spray. He permitted himself a moment of simply enjoying the pressure of the water pounding against his spine. He then proceeded to cleanse himself of the stale warehouse smell, covering it with the black orchid body wash he preferred. He rinsed the suds away and washed his hair quickly but thoroughly, not lingering as much as he usually did. He had a schedule to keep.

Stepping from the shower, Light quickly ran a towel over his skin squeezed the excess moisture from his hair, not taking the time to blow dry it. He pulled on a deep burgundy terrycloth robe and padded barefoot into the living room, where he found Mikami kneeling by the couch as he’d been ordered, Misa nowhere to be seen yet. Mikami’s eyes tracked Light as he entered the living room, eyes bright with thunderstruck adoration and what could tell was just the beginning of lust at seeing his God in only a robe, water dripping from his hair. Light smiled at his servant. Taking a seat on the sofa near Mikami, Light said, “The Death Note, Mikami.”

Mikami handed the Note over without question.

A flush of heat filled Light’s body as he held the Death Note for the first time in far too long. His eyes shut involuntarily at the rush before he blinked them open contentedly. He’d missed this. Light turned to the page Mikami had reinserted towards the middle of the Note. There, he found the names of the Task Force members and the unfamiliar names that must have been the SPK agents. “Tell me, Mikami: which of these names belonged to the white-haired nuisance?”

“Nate Rivers, God,” Mikami answered.

The name was there, written in neat, precise Roman lettering. Light ran his fingers over it, a cruel smile shaping his lips and a laugh bubbling in his throat once more, parting his lips and filling the room. _And the think that child had thought he could best me_ , Light mused. _Oh, the fool._

Turning back to Mikami, Light ran a hand through the wild mane of onyx hair, bringing a soft whimper from Mikami’s lips. “You did well, Mikami. You helped to bring down those who thought to oppose me."

“Thank you, God,” Mikami exhaled shakily. “It is my honor to serve you.”

Light made a humming noise in his throat, reveling in the effect he was causing. Then, he fisted a clump of hair tightly, jerking Mikami’s head back in a harsh, sudden motion. Mikami released a startled, pain cry, but he made no maneuver to try to get away, his hands staying by his sides without so much as twitching, even as his eyes instinctively began to tear up.

Light held him there for a moment, watching a single tear escape and run down a pale cheek before disappearing into thick hair, and then he released Mikami just as abruptly as he’d seized him. “Shower,” he ordered. “Hang your suit with mine, and put your other clothes in the laundry basket. There are body wash and hair products you may use, and washcloths and towels are in the closet. Take the Death Note with you. Be quick, and return here.”

“Yes, God,” Mikami said quickly, rising on shaky legs to obey.

As the other exited the room, Light sent a text to Misa.

> Where are you?

A moment later, the response came, announcing itself with a ding.

> Misa Misa's on her way home, Light! 8P

Light set his phone on the coffee table and turned on the television. Turning to the news, Light picked up a pen and a piece of paper and began to write. He'd gotten just a few names down before the front door opened.

"Light!" Misa said excitedly, throwing himself into his lap. "You did it? They're all dead?"

Light set the pen and paper aside. "Yes, Misa. Neither the SPK nor the Task Force will prove to be a problem in the future."

"That's great! Now Light and Misa Misa can get married since it's safe!"

 _This again_ , Light sighed to himself. Light had been adamant about not getting married, and Misa had somehow gotten it into her head that he meant to wait until those that opposed Kira were taken care of. "Misa," he began to say, only to be cut off by her ramblings.

"Who's gonna be your best man in the wedding? I would've said Matsuda, but that's not gonna work, obviously. Maybe the person who was acting as Kira for you? That'd be cute, 'cause-"

"Misa!"

His raised voice brought Misa to a startled stop. "Light?"

"There's not going to be a wedding. We've talked about this."

Misa immediately began pouting. "But Light," she whined, "it's safe now! You can be Kira without anyone interfering, and-"

"No, Misa," he said firmly. "We are not getting married. Not now, not in a few months, not when Kira takes over the world completely, not in ten years from now, not ever." He pushed her out of his lap, making her land on the couch next to him before he stood. From there, he could see Mikami in the doorway to the bedroom, a towel around his waist in an attempt at modesty and Death Note in hand, about to cross into the living room as he'd been instructed to do before. Light caught his eye and gave a near-imperceptible shake of his head.

"Light!" Misa yelled, angry now. "We love each other! We've been living together for years now, and everything working against Kira has been stopped. Now-"

"No, Misa. I've told you time and again, and this is the last time. We aren't getting married, now or in the future, and that's the end of it. Do you understand me?" He allowed coldness to seep into his voice. "I am not in love with you, Misa, nor have I ever been. I began dating you because Rem would have killed me if I hadn't, and I kept you around because you were useful. Now, there's no Shinigami to threaten me, and I have someone else with the Eyes. I will keep you around so long as you remain useful, but I will not marry you, because I do not- and never will- love you."

Light could see Mikami's hands tighten around the Death Note, the servant's face twisted in vexation as he focused on the top of Misa's pigtailed head, the only part he could see from the bedroom doorway. He clearly was no more pleased at Misa's disobedience than Light was himself.

Misa began shaking. "But Light," she pleaded, tears filling her green eyes, "I love you so much! Please, please, Light, I'll do anything! What can I do Light, please?"

Giving Misa a final chance, Light picked up the paper he'd been writing names on and handed it to Misa along with a pen. "You want to prove your love to me?" he asked.

"Yes, Light, anything, I swear it! Whose name do you want me to write?" Tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Yours."

"What?"

"Prove your love to me, Misa, by writing your name in the Death Note. You said you'd do anything. Do this." He caught Mikami's eyes once more, and knew that the other understood the plan.

"Light, no, please, I love you! I love you so much, Light, please! We could be so happy, you and me, together! I can make you happy-"

"I told you what to do."

Misa was sobbing, her shoulders shaking. "Light, please, no, I can't, not this, please!" she choked out.

Light shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Mikami."

"What?" Misa asked, confusion coloring her tone.

Mikami stepped into the room, circling around to Light and kneeling at his right side. "Yes, God?"

Light could see where Mikami had already written a cause of death and all but one of the characters of Misa's name. Now that Mikami could see Misa's face, Light ordered, "Finish it."

"Light? Light, what's happening?" Misa asked.

"The paper was a fake, Misa," he told her. "I was testing your loyalty to me, to see if I could keep you. If you'd written your name, I would have spared you."

"No, Light, no, please, I'll be good, I promise, Light, please!" Misa's shoulder's shook, her voice breaking as she sobbed.

"It's too late, Misa." He stepped away from her, and only a short while later, the wait filled with desperate pleas, Misa quieted, stood, and walked out the door, not even pausing to get her shoes from by the door.

According to the Death Note, she would be killed in a mugging soon, not to be found until morning.

"Hyuk, that was pretty mean, Light," Ryuk chuckled.

"She defied God. It was no more than she deserved," Light answered before sitting once more on the couch. He held a hand out for the Death Note, and it was handed over. Light quickly copied the names he'd written on the fake, the faces of the criminals coming easily to him. He'd nearly forgotten the feeling of writing names in the Death Note, the way adrenaline rushed through his body and his blood heated. Everything in him focused on that feeling, in the power of writing names, of paving the way the way to his New World, a perfect world. It flowed easily, the killing not even second nature, just as much a part of him as his hair color by now it seemed.

Once that was done, he set the Note onto the coffee table and looked to Mikami once more. The man's hair was still slightly wet, water dripping onto his bare shoulders and rolling down his arms and chest. His head was bowed, as it tended to be around Light, and his hands were resting on his towel-covered thighs. As he'd done earlier, Light fisted a hand in Mikami's hair and jerked. The cry that came this time was more subdued, quieter. Though his face was tilted upward now, Mikami's eyes still didn't focus on Light's face, instead focusing on the space just over Light's shoulder.

Light could have purred in satisfaction. "Look at me, Mikami."

Mikami's eyes darted to meet Light's instantly.

"Good boy," Light praised, and he didn't imagine the shiver that ran through Mikami. "You've done well today, behaved perfectly, followed your orders."

"Th-thank you, God," Mikami stuttered. His mouth opened to say something else, but his mouth snapped shut.

"You have something you'd like to say to me, Mikami?" Light asked.

Though he was clearly concerned about crossing a line, Mikami didn't hesitate once he'd been asked. "I-I didn't like the way she spoke to you, God. It was disrespectful. I was glad to kill her for you, God, even more so than the others."

Light smiled, a slow curl of his lips. He used his grip to drag Mikami closer until the man was on his knees just in front of Light, close enough that Light could feel his body heat. Light leaned forward, lowering his head to Mikami's neck, and there, he could smell the scent of his body wash. A possessive thrill shot through him, and Light nosed along the line of Mikami's throat to find more of that scent before he set his teeth to the flesh there, soft at first, and then a sharper bite. A gasping moan tore itself from Mikami's lips, and Light bit harder. When he pulled away, he saw a perfect imprint of his teeth had been left behind, sure to bruise.

"God," Mikami breathed, a worshipful expression on his face.

"You've served your God well today, Mikami," Light said again. "What else would you be willing to do to make me happy?"

"Anything, anything at all, God," was the instant reply, and Light knew he meant it, that it wasn't the conditional "anything" Misa had given: Mikami would write his own name in the Death Note, kill anyone Light asked in any way, commit any crime, undergo any trial, so long as it would please Light.

With that in mind, Light brought his left hand to the sash of his robe and untied the knot, letting the fabric fall loose and frame his body.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...in chapter two because I'm a tease ;) also I wanted to post this before midnight. Subscribe?
> 
> Also, I'm a comment whore. Just so you know. Feeds the muse.


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